


World Ender

by Plodder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dark, High Fantasy, Sorry Not Sorry, Very AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11601378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plodder/pseuds/Plodder
Summary: A dark fantasy about Obi-Wan and Anakin, in homage a bit to Tolkien and the other fantasy writers of my childhood.  Can be read as platonic or not.The song World Ender, by Lord Huron makes me think of Anakin, for some reason.  It inspired this little story.





	World Ender

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this, but was inspired by all the Obikin week submissions. This one is for prompt 4, lyrics.

Lord Huron-The World Ender

I’ll never bleed and I won’t ever age  
I’ll never feel the embrace of the grave  
The fair and the brave and the good must die  
I seen the other side of living, I know heaven's a lie  
I’ll tear through the night, and I'll raise some hell  
'Cause I'm the World Ender, baby and I'm back from the dead

Lord knows I should be pushing daisies  
I was 6 feet down, but something raised me up  
Sent back for to lift my curse  
I’m gonna get me a taste of some chaos first  
Untied, gonna get little wild  
Go screaming through the dark like a demon child  
Close your eyes now, the light is fading  
And the noise in the night is gonna get a little louder, baby

 

On the longest night of the year, a man in grey wandered through the snow, trailing a long damp-edged cloak behind him. Dark trees creaked and groaned, clacking together in the wind. He carried a single torch, a rucksack, and a precious object, tucked in an tiny pouch against his heart. 

An owl hooted mournfully. The wind whipped his long, red hair around him, beads and braids trailing. His face was pale, gaunt, and barren, a man bereft. He walked with purpose, oblivious to the bitter cold.

He reached the forest’s edge and climbed to the top of a hill. There was a fairy circle of stones crumbling into the snow around them. The air surrounding him suddenly crackled with purpose. It smelled of ozone. 

With a bone white hand, he pulled some kindling out of his sack and arranged it neatly. He whispered unheard words, and with a wave of his hand, fire sprung to life. He removed several small canisters from his sack and shook their contents onto the small blaze. 

Reverently, he removed the pouch hanging around his neck. He shook the contents into his hand, revealing a small ivory bone, gracefully made. He stared longingly at it for a second, and then steeled himself. He threw it into the fire. Lastly, he pulled a sharp knife from his boot and drew it without thinking across the palm of his hand. Thick and red, the viscous fluid dripped into the fire. The wind howled.

He chanted, softly and lowly at first, then rising to a crescendo. The wind whipped falling snow around him. He did not falter. When the spell was complete, he was completely spent. He fell to the blanketing snow, ignoring the ground as it shook and rattled. Would it work?

He remembered his beloved as he last saw him, laying on his funeral bier, golden hair wreathed in wildflowers, pure in his selfless sacrifice. His face was as pale and lovely in death as the marble statues in the forgotten halls of the High King. They had burned him, as was proper, but Obi-Wan had snuck away in the night, and found that one untouched bone of his small finger. 

Just a few feet away from where Obi-Wan fell, something was clawing its way out of the earth. A man of sorts. Anakin. Obi-Wan sat up. He was blue-white, but whole, finely made. His eyes were ringed with fire, his essence of brimstone. 

“Obi-Wan, you raised me” he said, his voice like gravel. 

Obi-Wan stood and ran to him. They embraced wholly, like they never had a chance to before Anakin’s death. He never wanted to let go. Obi-Wan felt a sharp burning sensation on his cheek, where Anakin had caressed it. He smelled smoke and ash. 

Anakin pushed him away violently. 

“I’m burning you! What have you done? How could you have done this to me?” Obi-Wan looked down to his robes, which held a charred handprint. He felt blisters on his cheek, smelled the sulfur of burned hair. 

“We need you Anakin, you’re our only hope” Obi-Wan was shaking, tears in his eyes. 

“Even if I can never touch you again, we need you. We can no longer fight the long defeat against Sidious and his armies.” 

Obi-Wan got on his knees and begged. 

“There are so few of us remaining, raising you was the only choice left. Otherwise we will be all dead, all gone”. 

Anakin walked toward him and moved to touch his shoulder, but stopped. 

“Do you have the knife?” Anakin asked. 

Legends spoke of an ancient copper knife, when wielded by a fire-revenant, could defeat great evil.

“I do”. 

Anakin walked ahead and then looked back. 

“Are you coming? We have a monster to kill.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


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